


Her Greatest Protector

by vix_spes



Category: Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: Action, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7282576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he has been from the day that she was born, George Knightley, master of Donwell Abbey, proves himself to be Emma Woodhouse's greatest protector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pers/gifts).



> The 'Attempted Sexual Assault' tag refers to an offscreen incident in which Mr Elton was described as 'making violent love' to Emma.

George Knightley couldn’t help but feel concerned for Emma as he watched her from his vantage point in the corner of the room. He had no doubt that, as far as the rest of the assembled guests were concerned, Emma was perfectly fine and being her usual charming, effervescent self. However, Emma Woodhouse was not only one of George Knightley’s oldest and dearest friends but he was certain that he knew her better than anyone else, even her older sister. Knowing her as he did, he was certain that all was not well. Concerned, he scrutinised her even more than he usually would.  
  
Oh, Emma was all smiles and the perfect hostess in her role as mistress of Hartfield but there seemed to be a shadow lingering over her. Her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes and she was quieter than usual. Emma was impeccably turned out as always but both her hair and clothes were in a different style to her usual choice and he had seen her wince slightly when she had accepted her namesake from his brother earlier. As if all of that wasn’t enough to concern him, while the gathered women were twittering excitedly about Emma’s engagement to Mr Elton (and when had that happened?), Emma was barely contributing to the conversation. All of it added up to the fact that there was clearly something very wrong with his dearest friend.  
  
Only, Emma Woodhouse was not simply his dearest friend. George Knightley was just coming to terms with the fact that Emma was so much more than that. She was also the young woman that he was rapidly becoming certain was the only woman that he could envision marrying.  
  
It was strange. He had never really given much thought to marriage, even when he was younger, much the opposite of his brother. John had set his heart on marrying Isabella Woodhouse when he was little more than a boy and had gone to do precisely that. In comparison, Knightley had been convinced that he would remain the bachelor uncle forever and, was honestly and truly happy with that thought, until little Emma Woodhouse had seemingly grown up in the blink of an eye and marriage no longer seemed such an unappealing prospect.  
  
At least, not if a certain blonde was his bride-to-be.  
  
Not wanting to make Emma uncomfortable and create a scene, Knightley waited until she passed her niece back to Isabella and excused herself to speak to the housekeeper, slipping out unnoticed by the other guests. He waited patiently in the shadows before stepping out as Emma prepared to return to the party. If Knightley hadn’t already been convinced that all was not well with Emma, then her reaction would have convinced him.  
  
Whereas normally she would respond with a start and a giggle, now she turned as white as a sheet and her eyes filled with tears. Horror filling him at her reaction, he led her into the library and sat her down on a chaise near the still-burning fire. Kneeling in front of her, Knightley wrapped his hands around her delicate wrists only for Emma to flinch away from him, something that she had never done in her whole life. Moving as slowly as he could so as not to startle her further, Knightley reached for the cuffs of the long-sleeved dress that Emma wore, unbuttoning them as carefully as he could. Pushing the fabric back over her delicate wrists, he couldn’t help the growl of anger that escaped him at the sight of the dark bruising that marred her porcelain skin.  
  
“Emma, who did this to you?” He forced himself to remain patient as she shuddered visibly and softened his tone as he entreated with her. “Please, dearest friend, tell me who did this to you?”  
  
The whisper, when it came, was so soft that he had to strain to hear it.  
  
“Mr Elton.”  
  
Emma’s revelation of her attacker almost caused Knightley’s anger to explode but he fought to keep it leashed, if only so that he didn’t frighten her further. “Are these the only bruises? Did he … did he mark you anywhere else?”  
  
He ground his teeth together as Emma pulled aside the uncharacteristically high neck of her dress to reveal another livid bruise just above her collarbone. Glancing up, he saw that Emma had lost the battle with her tears and they were now coursing down her cheeks. Unable to stand the sight of Emma in such distress, Knightley abandoned his position and moved to sit next to her on the chaise, pulling her against his chest. Emma was stiff against him and then she crumpled, her hands clutching at his waistcoat as she sobbed into his chest.  
  
Knightley did not think that he had ever felt so powerless as he cradled Emma to him, feeling her frame quake beneath his hands and her tears soak into his waistcoat. He quieted her as best as he could, stroking her hair until her sobs faded into nothing more than hitching breaths. Once again, Knightley had to grit his teeth when his ministrations showed yet more bruises hidden in her hair line. Just what had Elton done? Fighting the urge to storm out to find Elton and give him a good hiding, Knightley tightened his arms around Emma and didn’t let go until Emma’s breath had evened out. Only then did Knightley pull back, brushing away the tears that still clung to Emma’s lashes.  
  
“Answer me honestly Emma, for you have never lied to me before. Do you truly wish to marry Mr Elton or has he coerced you with his actions?”  
  
Emma nodded, more tears slipping over her lashes. “Ye-essss. He said that I had to agree to marry him or he would tell everyone what happened and that, in doing so, he would ruin my reputation. Even if I did want to marry another, no-one would have me. Mr Elton has made sure of that. He is a man of the cloth; who would believe me over him?”  
  
“And he calls himself a man of the church. I can assure you, there are plenty of people who would take your word over that of that … that _man._ ” Knightley paused, pondering how his next words would be received before deciding to take the risk. “Emma, long have I considered myself to be your protector. Please allow me to deal with this. I promise to do so discretely and quickly; you will not have to marry Mr Elton if you do not wish it.”  
  
He was rewarded with a watery smile. “You are ever, as your name suggests, my knight in shining armour. I would be most grateful for your assistance; I do not wish to shame or distress my father.”  
  
Not for the first time, George Knightley couldn’t help but be amazed by Emma’s selflessness. He may criticise her but, in all truthfulness, Emma had very few faults and her devotion to her father had never been in question. He was not at all surprised that Mr Woodhouse and his thoughts and feelings on this subject were amongst Emma’s first concerns.  
  
“Then I shall take care of everything.” Knightley leant in and pressed a kiss to Emma’s forehead, “I am sorry that you have been placed in this situation. If you wish to retire, I will gladly make your excuses to the company.”  
  
Emma simply nodded in appreciation and stood to leave but paused by his shoulder. He could smell the familiar sweet scent of her perfume before he felt her lips press a gossamer-soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Mr Knightley, I could not have a truer friend, I am in your debt.”  
  
Knightley waited to hear the soft-click of the lock, letting out a deep breath and a handful of curses before scrubbing a hand through his hair as soon as he did so. He had never been much impressed by Mr Elton, thinking him far too ambitious for a vicar, but he had not thought him capable of something like this. He would need to talk to his brother to determine how to proceed from here but he had every intention of dealing with this matter as soon as possible to avoid causing Emma any further distress. Straightening his waistcoat and hoping that the dampness was not visible, he made his way back into the gathered company to make Emma’s apologies.  
  
Philip Elton was lucky that he was not in attendance otherwise the evening would not have ended well for him. Then again, there was still no guarantee that things were going to end well for Philip Elton. Not if George Knightley had anything to say about it.


	2. Chapter 2

It was still dark outside, although dawn was just beginning to peek over the horizon, the following morning when Knightley drew Bessie to a halt outside the vicarage. He had passed a sleepless night at Donwell, pacing up and down the library, unable to remove the image of Emma’s tear-stained visage from his mind. He had had strong words with his brother not only as to the course of action that he should take but also about the fact that John had left Emma alone in the carriage with the villainous Mr Elton.

Oh, Knightley did not lay all of the blame at his brother’s feet – if he hadn’t been so insistent on riding then he too might have been able to prevent the situation – but he was not too best pleased with his brother at the moment. After all, John himself had warned Emma that Mr Elton was far more interested in her than in Harriet Smith but, even so, he had left his sister-in-law alone in the carriage with the vicar.

If only Emma had taken John’s words a little more seriously but she had been so blasé, so utterly certain in her belief that it was Harriet that Mr Elton was interested in. It said a lot about Emma’s modesty and lack of affectation that she was so totally unaware of the effect that a simple smile from her could have on a man. Emma Woodhouse being her usual personable self drew men like moths to a flame yet, while Emma knew she was pretty, she did not overly concern herself by dwelling on thoughts of her appearance. In all truthfulness, Knightley had the feeling that it was this, combined with the sheltered life that she had led up until now, that meant that Emma did not see any potential danger to being alone with Mr Elton, and now she was paying a cruel price.

As dawn crept over the horizon, weak sunlight breaking through the clouds and setting the morning frost to sparkling, Knightley broke the peaceful air by hammering on the door to the Vicarage. Situated next to the church, it was far enough away from the rest of Highbury that the noise wouldn’t wake anybody else; despite the fury that still thrummed through his veins, Knightley was very conscious of not making this anymore public than necessary, for Emma’s sake.

Given the early hour, it took several minutes of Knightley hammering on the door before he could hear the household start to stir, the door finally opening to reveal Mr Elton himself, buttoning his housecoat over his nightshirt. He blanched as soon as he realised who stood before him; something that Knightley was rather gratified to see, although Elton attempted to regain his composure as he waved off his housekeeper’s enquiries.

“M-Mr Knightley, what can I do for you a-at this early hour? Is anything amiss?”

Knightley couldn’t help but growl at the audacity of the man. “Anything amiss? You know damn well that there’s something amiss. You have behaved in a matter unbefitting of a gentleman with your abominable treatment of Miss Woodhouse. As her oldest friend, indeed as a close friend of the family, I reserve the right to demand satisfaction and thus challenge you to a duel.”

Knightley watched as Elton’s mouth gaped open and shut several times before he swallowed audibly. Finally, he spoke.

“A-a duel? Is it, um, not the done thing for a challenge to be issued in writing?”

Knightley resisted the urge to become violent – something that was not usually in his nature. “Do not dare speak to me about the ‘done’ thing. You have displayed unconscionable behaviour for a man of the cloth, for any man. You assaulted Miss Woodhouse. Her honour and my conscience demand nothing less than a duel. So, your weapon of choice, Mr Elton?”

Knightley wasn’t troubled by which weapon the vicar would choose; he only had two options and Knightley excelled at both, although it had been some years since he had had cause to hold either pistol or sword. Nevertheless, he wasn’t overly concerned although he would probably brush up on his skills just to be on the safe side. He turned his attention back to the other man as Elton stammered out his answer.

“Umm, that is to say, p-pistols I suppose?”

“Then pistols it shall be. I have nominated my brother to be my second, a fact that he is aware of. You may inform him of your choice of second so that they may decide upon date, time and place. My brother shall also ensure that Dr. Perry is present.”

“D-Dr P-Perry? Is that necessary?”

“Of course, Mr Elton. It is always customary to have either a doctor or a surgeon present, as a precautionary measure, of course.” Knightley resisted the urge to smirk as Mr Elton blanched, the reasoning behind Knightley’s words suddenly dawning. “I don’t believe we have anything further to discuss, good day to you Mr Elton.”

Knightley didn’t bother to wait for his pleasantry to be acknowledged or returned, he simply mounted Bessie and turned her in the direction of home. His challenge issued and accepted, Knightley now had several things to take care of. He didn’t think for one minute that Mr Elton could best him in a duel but overconfidence never helped anyone and it would not do for Knightley to be overly complacent. He had always been fastidious about keeping his affairs in order but a quick trip into town to look over everything with his lawyer was probably a good idea. Pulling out his pocket watch, he saw that it was still early. With any luck he could go to Donwell to see his steward and make a few arrangements before making it to Hartfield in time for breakfast. From there he could leave directly for London.

~*~

Luck was on his side as he came across William Larkins, his steward, as he carefully directed Bessie down the snow-covered sweep of Donwell’s main approach. The Larkins family had acted as stewards for the Donwell estate for several generations and Knightley trusted him implicitly. Calling out the season’s greetings, he tethered Bessie to the hitching post by the front door and ushered Larkins into Donwell and the small room that he used as his study.

He didn’t have to spend overly long with Larkins. At this time of year there was very little to do on the estate unlike during planting or harvest seasons and besides, he only expected to be away one night, two at the most unless he ended up being particularly unlucky with the weather. With that in mind, he instructed Larkins to keep an eye on the few families that would struggle the most if the weather took a turn for the worst and then sent the man off home to his own family.

After a brief detour to talk to his housekeeper, Hannah, and inform her that he would be away for a few days, he was back on Bessie and heading in the direction of Hartfield. He had barely made it inside the front door before he was being pulled aside by his brother into the privacy of the library.

“Well? What happened? What did Elton have to say for himself?”

“He accepted my challenge.”

“That wasn’t what I asked, George. Did he give you an explanation for his actions?”

“I wasn’t asking for an explanation, John. Elton assaulted Emma, that is all I need to know. He has accepted my challenge and chosen pistols. He is to choose his second and then they will be in contact with you regarding the details.”

“And what about you?”

Knightley smiled ruefully, “I’m for London. I need to ensure my affairs are in order, should the worst happen.”

“I cannot dissuade you from this course of action, can I, George?”

Knightley smiled at his brother. “No, you can’t but then you knew that.”

“I did. Come then, we had better get you fed for the journey.”

Knightley allowed John to lead him into the breakfast room where Isabella and Mr Woodhouse were already breaking their fast. “Look who has joined us this morning.”

“Mr Knightley, you don’t usually join us for breakfast.”

Knightley offered a bow to Mr Woodhouse, “I hope I’m not intruding, Sir?”

“Not at all, not at all. Take a seat. You know that you are always welcome at Hartfield, Mr Knightley. You’re one of the family.”

(~*~)

He was just preparing himself to leave, having lingered as long as he possibly could in the hopes of seeing Emma, when she finally made her appearance in the breakfast room. Standing to greet her, Knightley was pleased to see that she looked a little more like her usual self as she moved towards him, a brilliant smile on her face and her hands outstretched. As he took Emma’s hand to escort her to her seat, he took the opportunity to observe her closely, struggling to hide his frown as he saw the deep purple shadows under her eyes and the pallor of her skin despite the brightness of her smile.

“Emma,” he strove to inject as much warmth into his tone as possible whilst still ensuring that it wasn’t too much changed from usual.

“Mr Knightley! I was unaware that you had joined us otherwise I would have rearranged speaking with Mrs Buck.”

“I did not wish to disturb you from your duties, Emma. I trust that everything is in hand, as always?”

“It is, but I fear I tarried too long. Are you leaving us, Mr Knightley?”

“I am. I am away to London directly I leave Hartfield.” Knightley regretted the slight brusqueness to his words as Emma’s fingers tightened on his hand.

“You will not be gone long?”

Was that fear that he detected in her voice? Privately, he resolved to take care of his business in London and return as quickly as possible, come hell or high water. “No indeed, I shall not be gone for long. You will hardly have time to miss me.”

He couldn’t help but be pleased when he saw some of the tension leach from her frame at his words and he lifted her hand to his lips, lingering a fraction longer than he would usually. “I promise Emma; I shall return soon.”

“I shall hold you to that promise, Mr Knightley.”

With one final bow, Knightley dropped Emma’s hand and offered a shallow bow to the rest of the assembled party. The sooner that he left for London, the sooner that he could return and avenge Emma’s honour.


	3. Chapter 3

Between his lawyer - Mr Iain Henderson – and himself, all Knightley’s affairs were as they should be, much as he had expected. It had taken nothing more than an afternoon’s work to Knightley’s relief; he would not be unnecessarily detained in London and would therefore not be adding to Emma’s anxiety. Given that it was too late to set out for Surrey that evening, Henderson invited Knightley to dinner with his family. Later that evening, after dinner and over generous measures of port in Henderson’s study, he had encouraged Knightley to explain the whole situation and precisely why he needed to check that his affairs were in order so urgently. Were it any other lawyer, Knightley would have refused to be drawn and kept his silence – particularly given the illegality of what he was going to be doing – but, given his history with Henderson (they had been school and university friends), Knightley willingly offered up all of the details and the situation that he found himself in.

Unsurprisingly, given both his profession and his own reticent personality, Henderson was of a similar mindset to John and not at all convinced that a duel was the best way forwards. Nevertheless, he was astute enough to recognise that Knightley would not be dissuaded from the course of action that he had chosen.

“She must be a special woman indeed, if you’re willing to duel for her.”

“I would be willing to do the same for any woman within my close acquaintance if she had been imposed upon thusly but yes, Emma … Miss Woodhouse is unlike any other woman that I know.”

“In which case, Cynthia and I would be happy to receive the two of you here when this whole mess is dealt with.”

“Well … Emma and I, it isn’t like that between us.”

“Not yet maybe, give it time. Now, take care of yourself and try not to do anything foolish.”

“I shall endeavour to do my best. Thank you, Henderson.”

Knightley departed to avail himself of a bed at his brother’s home – even if John and Isabella were still at Hartfield - and was on the road back to Donwell as soon as dawn broke the following morning. Not only was he keen to see Emma again but he also wanted to see if Mr Elton had come to any sort of decision. The sooner that this whole situation was dealt with, the better.

Despite the round trip to London in just over 24 hours, Bessie made good time and it was not quite mid-morning when the familiar sight of Donwell Abbey greeted him. Having left Bessie with his groom, Knightley headed straight for the study in the hopes of finding his brother there, the silence suggesting that Isabella had taken the children to Hartfield for the day. He found John where he had expected, his brother looking up as Knightley strode into the room.

Knightley didn’t waste any time before saying, "Well?"

“Hello George, it’s nice to see you too. How was town?”

“London was London. I was there for business not to take in the sights and my business is under control. Now, have you heard from Elton?”

“Yes, his second came to see me yesterday evening. A rather weaselly-looking young man by the name of Cox. Two tomorrow afternoon in the orchard on Old Man Davis’ land. I’ve already spoken to Dr Perry and he has assured me that he’ll be present. Now, the only question still to remain; are you going to tell Emma of your planned course of action?”

“Absolutely not. Of that I am certain. There is no need for her to know.”

“No need for her to know? George, you are putting yourself in mortal danger for her sake. How can you say that she doesn’t need to know?”

“Because, should this all go wrong, I do not want Emma to blame herself which she undoubtedly would. No, the only person to blame for all of this is Philip Elton and besides, the whole thing will be over by tomorrow evening.”

“Very well then. I see that you cannot be persuaded. I’m expected at Hartfield for lunch, will you be joining me?”

“I shall. Let me check in with Hannah, then I need to bathe and change before we can depart. We could walk and save the horses; the snow is all but gone and the distance is not too great.”

“Very well. I shall wait here until you’re ready.”

(~*~)

Any lingering doubts that Knightley may have had about his actions faded away as he saw the look of sheer relief steal across Emma’s face when he slipped into the parlour on his brother’s heels.

“Mr Knightley! You have returned! The delights of London could not keep you longer?”

“The delights of London cannot compare to the delights of Highbury.” As Knightley stooped to press a kiss to the forehead of his youngest niece who lay ensconced in the arms of her aunt and namesake, he thought he saw a blush creep across Emma’s cheekbones and allowed himself the fleeting – and fanciful – hope that it was caused by both his proximity and his words. He let his fingers trail over the baby’s rounded cheek, smiling as she nestled in closer to Emma.

“John spoke the truth Emma; you look well thus. The role of doting aunt suits you. However, it is time to let the doting uncle have his turn with his niece.”

Taking baby Emma from her aunt’s arms, he sank down onto the loveseat next to Emma and dandled the baby on his knee, feeling Emma’s gaze upon him and knowing that she was struggling to contain her innate curiosity.

“Did your business in London go well, Mr Knightley? You were not away long?”

“It did go well, thank you for asking. And no, I did not see any reason to tarry once it had been concluded; I had promises to keep, after all.”

This time, he was certain that he wasn’t imagining the flush on Emma’s face but he refused to get his hopes up because he knew that the whole mess with Elton was far too close to the surface and for all that Emma was putting on a brave face for her father’s sake, Knightley had known Emma long enough to know that it was precisely that; a brave face. As he focused his attention on his niece, he missed Emma’s next question, only realising that she had asked him something when he felt the weight of her expectant gaze on him.

“I’m sorry, did you ask something Emma?”

“Yes, will you stay for dinner tonight?”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. Tomorrow evening perhaps?”

Conscious of John’s gaze upon him, Knightley brought the baby up to his shoulder and smiled at Emma. “Tomorrow evening, I am at your service.”

“Good. I shall inform Mrs Buck.”

~*~

The following afternoon, as the designated hour approached, both Knightley brothers could be found in the old orchard on Old Man Davis’ land accompanied by Dr Perry awaiting the arrival of Mr Elton and his second, Mr Cox. Finally, with just five minutes remaining until the appointed time, a rather pale and queasy looking Mr Elton appeared in the orchard, his second at his side.

“Gentlemen, if I could have the seconds here with me. Mr Knightley, Mr Elton, if you could make your preparations and then present yourselves to me.”

Knightley did as Dr Perry instructed, stripping off his coat, waistcoat and cravat, hanging them over a nearby branch and moving to stand in front of the doctor, Mr Elton mirroring his actions. Dr Perry gave them both a cursory examination and pronounced them fit to fight before providing them with the pistols they needed.

“Back to back gentlemen and then ten paces.”

Knightley moved at the doctors count, concentrating on regulating his breathing and focusing as much as he possibly could.

“And turn. Gentlemen, you may fire at will.”

Knightley turned and raised his arm, pleased to see that it didn’t waver, something that could not be said for Mr Elton whose arm was visibly shaking. Inhaling and exhaling several times, he prepared to take his shot. With one final inhale, he cocked the pistol and, on the exhale, pulled the trigger. Closing his eyes against the resulting billow of smoke, he heard a yell as his bullet clearly hit Mr Elton followed by the bang of Elton’s pistol and a blaze of heat on his upper arm. Opening his eyes, Knightley saw Mr Elton sprawled on the floor clutching at his shoulder with Mr Cox at his side.

“Mr Knightley, are you satisfied?”

“I am.” Knightley walked over to Mr Elton who had now been helped up by Mr Cox but was looking distinctly pale and shaky and spoke quietly in his ear. “I do not care where you go but I suggest that you leave Surrey as quickly as possible and never return; I hear that Bath is particularly nice. If you come anywhere near Miss Woodhouse again, my bullet will find itself somewhere other than your shoulder. Do you understand me?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good.” Knightley raised his voice, “Dr Perry, I believe you have a patient that needs tending to.”

“Very good Mr Knightley. How about yourself?”

Knightley glanced down at his arm, seeing a few spots of blood where he had briefly felt the heat earlier. “A lucky graze, nothing more. I can take care of it myself and I’ll be sure to see you if necessary.”

“Very well, Mr Knightley.”

Knightley allowed John to help him back into his waistcoat and coat, the two of them staying silent until they were well on their way back to Donwell.

“Is it done with now, George?”

“If Elton has any sense then yes, John, I believe it is done with.”

“Good. Let us get back to Donwell. We need to treat and bind that arm of yours satisfactorily before we make for Hartfield and dinner. If I’m not mistaken, Emma was concocting all sorts of plans so we had best be there early.”

(~*~)

Several hours later found both the Knightley brothers in higher spirits than usual as they arrived at Hartfield for dinner. While John made his way to his wife’s side, George stole Emma away to the library with a subtle head movement, watching as she made her excuses to her father before moving to join him.

“Mr Knightley? Is everything well?”

“I wanted to tell you that Mr Elton has been dealt with; he won’t be troubling you again any time soon.”

“Oh Mr Knightley, do you mean that? What did you do?”

“What I did is of no relevance Emma, all you need to know is that it is dealt with and I truly mean that. He can’t harm you anymore.”

“Oh George!”

Knightley may not have been prepared for Emma to call him by his Christian name but he was quite prepared for Emma to fling herself into his embrace. As such, he was able to school his face to hide the slight wince when Emma squeezed his injured arm and instead simply wrapped his arms further around her and held her close.

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr Knightley. What would I ever do without you?”

“My dearest Emma, I can promise that that is something you will never have to do.”


	4. Chapter Four

Although he wanted to be in Emma’s company – and at Hartfield with the rest of his family and Mr Woodhouse – as much as was feasibly possible, there was plenty of other business that kept Knightley away. Not only were there plenty of things around the Donwell Estate that needed his attention but, as a county Justice of the Peace, he also had to prepare for the upcoming Epiphany quarter sessions. It was something of a thankless task and he knew several men in his position who had refused to take on the extra work but Knightley felt that the prominent place he occupied within society due to his name meant that he was driven to do something that would benefit the people of the country. As a result, his good intentions meant that he did not see Emma again until some four days after the duel.

He had not seen Mr Elton himself – from what Knightley had heard, barely anyone had seen the man – but he had been assured by Dr Perry that the wound Mr Elton had received during the duel was hardly life-threatening although his shoulder mobility would be affected for a time and it would undoubtedly scar. For his part, the graze that Knightley had suffered was healing well and was proving to be no great impediment to his daily life; he didn’t even need to bandage it any more. Even if he did, he would do so happily as it was proof that he had been able to defend Emma’s honour, regardless of the fact that it was something that he shouldn’t have had to do.

The duel had ensured that Elton would leave without a fuss but there was still one lingering problem in that Emma was technically still engaged to the monster. Between them, the Knightley brothers came up with a plan. They wrote a letter that would ensure the engagement was broken with no stain left upon Emma’s character and reputation, all of the blame being born by Mr Elton himself. They then proceeded to enlist the services of Dr Perry. Fond of Emma as he was, indeed as all in Highbury were, Dr Perry had agreed to get Mr Elton to write out and sign the letter in his own hand. The instant that Knightley had that piece of paper in his hand, he knew that he had done everything to avenge Emma. He could not take back the act that had necessitated all of this but he had done everything in his power to ensure that it would not affect Emma’s future.

When he arrived at Hartfield, the whole house was aglow and Knightley realised that the evening was going to be more than a simple family party. Indeed, when he was shown through to the gathered guests, he saw that the expected occupants had been supplemented by the Westons as well as Mrs and Miss Bates. To his disappointment, there was no sign of his nieces and nephews but a quick word with Isabella told him that Henry, George and Bella were abed but still awake and if he promised not to rile them up, she would permit him to go and bid them goodnight. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, he slipped out of the room unnoticed by everyone but his sister-in-law and Emma, who never missed a thing.

Despite his somewhat firm demeanour, it was well-known amongst both the Knightley and the Woodhouse families that George Knightley was a soft-touch when it came to his nieces and nephews (and Emma as well, but nobody ever mentioned that). Thus, it was unsurprising to all parties present that James had to be despatched to collect their wayward guest and bring him to the dinner table as he had been cajoled (very easily) into reading a bedtime story or two.

Upon his arrival in the dining room, Knightley found all of the guests already seated and waiting upon him with a seat left empty for him in between Mr and Mrs Weston and directly opposite from Emma. They were a slightly uneven party with nine in attendance and Knightley was unsurprised to hear that Frank Churchill had been included in the invitation but had yet to make an appearance in Highbury. Knightley listened to Mr Weston’s – and Mrs Weston’s – excuses for his son silently, doing no more than exchanging a look with Emma. She knew full well his thoughts about a certain young man and they hadn’t changed since he had informed her of them. As far as Knightley was concerned, Frank Churchill’s behaviour was despicably rude and showed no little contempt for his new step-mother. Regardless of his aunt’s health and wishes, he should at least have shown his face by now, even if only for a day. Still, not wanting to distress Mrs Weston – or Emma – he held his tongue and was rewarded with a grateful smile and a subtly mouthed “thank you” from Emma.

Thankfully, with the well-meaning but rather garrulous Miss Bates at the table and both Emma and Mrs Weston steering the conversation as necessary, Knightley found that he didn’t need to say much at all. All he had to do was answer the few questions directed to him by Mr Weston. Unfortunately, this also meant that he was completely unprepared for Miss Bates to bring up the subject of Mr Elton just as everyone was finishing their dessert.

“And did you hear about our esteemed vicar?”

Knightley’s gaze immediately moved to Emma, who wore a slightly startled look and who had stiffened almost imperceptibly. To his frustration, there was nothing that Knightley could do to comfort and reassure her without drawing attention to the fact that something was wrong. All he could do was hope that she could feel his support by will alone. Completely oblivious to the fact that Emma was undergoing silent torment by her side, Miss Bates continued blithely on.

“Yes, I’m sorry to say that he’s leaving us for pastures new. I saw Mrs Higgins in town this morning and she said that he’s been offered another position in Bath. Apparently he’s always wanted to work in a bigger city and so he’s accepted it. They wanted him as soon as possible so he left this morning and we’ll have a new vicar before the fortnight is out.”

While the rest of the table expressed their shock loudly, remarking that it was such a shame and what a wonderful vicar he had been, Emma and the Knightley brothers remained silent. To Knightley’s relief, the rest of the guests were voicing their shock so loudly that the lack of response from the three of them went unnoticed. Also to Knightley’s relief, Mr Woodhouse had never really held with men and women separating after dinner; he didn’t see the point when their only guests were old friends and family. This evening, this habit of Mr Woodhouse’s was to the benefit of both Emma and Knightley. As everybody moved back into the parlour, nobody but John Knightley realised that two members of the party had slipped unnoticed into the library.

The instant that the door closed behind them, Knightley found Emma in his embrace for the third time in just over a week and in tears for the second time. Knowing that these tears were cathartic, he tried not to despair too much but the simple truth of the matter was that he hated to see Emma in tears or, indeed, any form of distress. To his immense relief however, the tears didn’t last long and Emma drew back, wiping ineffectually at the damp spot that she had left on Knightley’s waistcoat. Chuckling softly, he withdrew a clean kerchief from his pocket and handed it over, watching as Emma removed all traces of tears from her face.

“Wh-what about the engagement?”

Knightley produced the letter and handed it over. “Elton has broken it off, taking all blame upon himself. There will be no repercussions for you, none at all. Everything has been taken care of.”

Emma took the letter and read it through, the contents bringing fresh tears to her eyes. “You have done more than anyone could have asked for. More than I ever should have asked you to.”

Knightley was sure that his befuddlement was shown on his face only for realisation to dawn as Emma reached out and touched a gentle hand to the bullet graze on his arm. He opened his mouth but was at a loss for what to say other than “How?”

“How did I know that you had fought an illegal duel for me? I wasn’t sure but little things hinted at it. The behaviour of yourself and John, the way that you disappeared to London for business over Christmas, how you and John disappeared for several hours and Isabella confirmed that John was also acting strangely. Then, when you reappeared, you winced when you were playacting with the children.”

“You never miss a thing Emma, do you?”

“Well, you have told me on several occasions that I have intelligence, I just choose not to use it. We should probably rejoin the others; I have no doubt that they will be wondering where we are.”

“They’re going to want to know about the engagement, Emma. Miss Bates, in particular, is going to want all of the details.”

“I know. Still, Mr Elton can’t harm me anymore and as long as I have you by my side, I will be able to withstand her questioning.”

“I will always be by your side, my dearest Emma. Do not ever doubt that.”

For the second time, Knightley felt Emma’s lips gossamer soft on his skin, though this time they lingered long enough for him to catch the scent of her hair and to feel her breath on his skin.

“Thank you, George. It doesn’t seem enough but I don’t think there will ever be words to thank you. You truly are my greatest protector.”


	5. Chapter Five

In the days after the impromptu dinner party thrown by Mr Woodhouse, life in Highbury quickly returned to normal. John, Isabella and the children remained in Highbury until shortly after the New Year’s celebrations, at which point they returned to London. The presence of Miss Bates had, as expected, ensured that the whole town knew the reasoning behind Mr Elton’s departure and subsequent breaking of his engagement with Emma and no-one blamed Emma in the slightest. Her first outings were somewhat tentative, visiting either Miss and Mrs Bates or Mrs Weston, until she came to the realisation that there wasn’t a single person in the whole of Highbury who judged Emma for what had happened. Armed with this knowledge and secure in the fact that her attacker was now ensconced in Bath, Emma was soon returned to her usual self and all of her usual activities, much to Knightley’s pleasure.  
  
He was forced to keep his distance from Hartfield for a few days while he attended the Epiphany Quarter Sessions but it didn’t take long for him to slip back into his previous habit of visiting Hartfield almost every day. As much as he had enjoyed seeing his brother, Isabella and their children, Knightley couldn’t deny that he infinitely preferred Hartfield when it was just himself, Emma and Mr Woodhouse. Although he considered himself to be a practical man, there were times when he couldn’t help but imagine if this was what married life with Emma would be like; the three of them sharing the same space and co-existing quite happily.  
  
He knew that, for most people, married life wouldn’t involve their father-in-law but, given how determined that Emma had been to protect her father when Mr Elton had attacked her, Knightley was under no illusions. If, through some unfathomably wonderful turn of events, he ended up with the good fortune to marry Emma, then she would come with her father as a package deal. Even if it came to Knightley having to temporarily vacate Donwell Abbey in order to keep both Emma and Mr Woodhouse happy, then he would willingly do so. Normally he wouldn’t indulge himself in such thoughts, but there were times that he thought that Emma perhaps returned his feelings for her, that she felt more for him then friendship and it gave him hope.  
  
And then, several months after Christmas, a newcomer arrived in Highbury and Knightley started to doubt everything.

  
~*~

  
“Look at Mr Churchill and Miss Woodhouse, how well they look. They could have been made to stand up together.”  
  
From his place half in the shadows, Knightley couldn’t help but seethe internally at Miss Bates’ words, even as he forced a smile to his lips. What was the fascination that everyone seemed to have with the couple? He could not deny that they made a handsome couple but he disliked that seemingly the whole town was talking about it. He disliked the idea of Emma with any man other than himself and he especially disliked the idea of Emma being with a man such as Frank Churchill.  
  
He couldn’t help but think of the conversation that he and Emma had had about Frank Churchill the night of that accursed Christmas party at the Westons.  
  
_“You seem determined to think ill of him.”_  
  
_“I? Not at all. He’s a person I never think of from one month’s end to another.”_  
  
If only that were still the case.  
  
These days, Knightley seemed to spend far more time thinking about Frank Churchill than he wanted to although it was fair to say that his thoughts were far from positive. It wasn’t that Knightley _wanted_ to think ill of Frank, it was simply that nothing Frank had done since he arrived in Highbury had endeared him to Knightley. The man had ridden to London – sixteen miles there and back – for nothing more than a haircut. How could a man like that – such a, a _fop_ – be a man worthy of Emma Woodhouse’s hand in marriage?  
  
She deserved a man who knew what a treasure he had in her; not just beauty but a brilliant mind and a compassionate heart as well. Emma needed someone who would temper her impetuousness, talk her down when her good-nature veered into the dangerous territory of interfering with other people’s lives. Emma needed someone steadfast and true, not flighty like Churchill who seemed to be a slave to his own whims.  
  
It didn’t escape Knightley’s notice that the man that he had been describing was, in essence, himself. Then again, wasn’t that the underlying truth? He had been describing himself because he couldn’t help but feel that the man Emma needed was him.  
  
He wanted, he _needed_ to be the man that Emma desired.  
  
As though Emma had sensed that she was the object of his musings, she approached him with a bright smile upon her face. His heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat at her beauty. Backlit by the candles and dressed, as ever, in a simple but charming white dress Emma’s golden hair looked as though it was wreathed in a halo. Momentarily struck dumb, he missed her first words.  
  
It was only once they were outside that Knightley realised that Emma had been thanking him for dancing with Miss Smith, a young lady that Emma had made tentative overtures to befriend and who was engaged to a Mr Robert Martin, one of Knightley’s tenants and who, seeing her all by herself, Knightley had taken it upon himself to dance with. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Knightley rebuffed Emma’s profuse thanks and distracted her with his compliments on the organisation of the ball itself. From there, the two of them descended into a companionable silence with occasional observations before they were discovered by Mr Weston, just in time for the last dance of the evening.  
  
“Come Emma, set your companions the example. Everybody is asleep!”  
  
“Whom are you going to dance with?” With every fibre of his being, he prayed that she didn’t say Frank Churchill. He didn’t think he could bear it.  
  
“With you, if you will ask me.”  
  
“Will you?” Hope sprang to life in his chest. He had half been expecting her to say that she would be dancing – yet again – with Frank Churchill.  
Instead, she wanted to dance with him. He felt the urge to crow exultantly, something which he had never felt before.  
  
“Indeed I will.”  
  
As Knightley took Emma’s hand and led her to the dance floor, barely able to tear his eyes away from her – and noticing with no little delight that his gaze was returned – it was as though they were the only two people in the room.

  
~*~

  
Unfortunately for Knightley, talk of how Mr Frank Churchill and Miss Emma Woodhouse made a wonderful couple didn’t abate in the slightest in the days after the ball. There was even talk of it at Donwell Abbey; Emma had long been a favourite of Knightley’s staff, even before her sister had married his brother, and that had not changed in the slightest even as she grew older. Indeed, there had been numerous occasions where Knightley had fancied that they infinitely preferred Emma to him. Knightley loved that Emma was so beloved that her happiness and well-being was of importance to those he was responsible for, but he hated that there was no respite from Frank Churchill, not even in his own home.  
  
Finally, utterly sick of Frank Churchill and all of the speculation in both Donwell and Highbury as to when the blasted man would be proposing to Emma, Knightley made for London and the sanctuary of his brother’s home. The problem was that he didn’t find it to be the sanctuary that it usually was, that he needed it to be.  
  
He may be in London, far from Highbury, but there was no peace to found, no respite from the blonde that haunted not only his dreams but his every waking moment in addition. There were so many things in John and Isabella’s home that reminded him of Emma. There was the gift that she had bought John for his last birthday, a small sketch of her nieces and nephews hung in pride of place in the parlour, the dress that Isabella wore reminded him of one of Emma’s and there was the book that both he and Emma had read and debated about whereupon they had discovered their wildly differing views.  
  
And then there were the children. Knightley loved his nieces and nephews dearly, adored them even and was known to be something of an indulgent uncle, but how had he never realised that their beloved Aunt Emma was one of their favourite subjects? All in all, the onslaught of Emma related things when he had been hoping for some respite left him rather resembling a bear with a sore head.  
  
In the end, it was John who took it upon himself to have words with his older brother while Isabella, refusing to be left out, made her thoughts and feelings on the matter perfectly clear.  
  
“George, not that it isn’t lovely to have you but what are you doing here?”  
  
“Can a man not visit his family for a few days?”  
  
“Of course he can, I’ve just never known you do it, especially as we saw you only a few months ago. Besides, I’m surprised that you’ve left Emma alone while Frank Churchill is still in Highbury.”  
  
“What do you mean by that? Why wouldn’t I leave Emma alone?”  
  
“John, please don’t antagonise your brother. You’re behaving as your sons do.”  
  
“I’m sorry Isabella, but it’s well known that the Westons are hoping for a match between Churchill and our Emma and given that you’re in love with her, I’m surprised that you’re here and not there trying to prevent the match.”  
  
“Isabella?” Knightley’s heart had plummeted at John’s words and he looked to his sister-in-law for confirmation.  
  
“I’m sorry, George. It is true that the Westons would like a match between Frank and Emma – Mrs Weston has written that several times – but I do not believe that Emma is interested in Frank that way, although she finds him to be perfectly amiable. I don’t believe that Emma has ever truly considered marriage to anyone. Indeed, I think that if she truly thought about it, there would only be one candidate and it isn’t Frank Churchill.”  
  
“George, I love you dearly brother but you need to admit once and for all that you are in love with Emma and do something about it other than mope around our home. You can’t stay in London forever. Talk to her, at the very least.”  
  
Anything else John might have been about to say was cut off as a maid knocked on the door and then entered. “Ma’am, there’s a letter from you from Mrs Weston. The delivery boy says it’s urgent…”

   
~*~

  
Knightley practically ran through Hartfield in his attempt to find Emma as quickly as possible, ignoring the way that the staff he passed stood and stared at him in shock. He had saddled his horse the instant that the news of Frank Churchill’s engagement to Jane Fairfax had reached him in London, intent on getting to Emma as quickly as possible. It had started pouring with rain not four miles out of London yet he had not broken pace once. As a result, he was undoubtedly a dishevelled mess but he could not bring himself to care; he just needed to reassure himself that Emma was well, that this news hadn’t left her heartbroken.  
  
He found Emma outside in the shower-drenched gardens, wandering aimlessly along the paths, hands outstretched as they trailed over bushes and plants. She didn’t look heartbroken but he knew Emma; she was more than capable of bottling all her emotions up inside her and putting on the brave face that was expected of her. In a handful of strides, he was in front of her and the words were simply spilling out of him.  
  
“My dearest Emma, time will heal the wound. I cannot tell you what I feel. Abominable scoundrel.” Knightley took Emma’s hands in his and brought them to his lips, pressing them gently. “He will soon be gone; they will soon be in Yorkshire. I feel sorry for her; she deserves a better fate.”  
  
“You are very kind but you are mistaken. I have never really been attached to Mr Churchill. I’m sorry if I gave that impression as I’m sure I did. I have very little to say for my own conduct. My vanity was flattered and I allowed his attentions.” Emma hesitated before she spoke, as though to gather her thoughts. “Truthfully, I think that I allowed his attentions because I felt safe around him. Even after my … experience with Mr Elton, I never felt as though I was at the same risk from Mr Churchill. I think some part of me sensed that he wasn’t truly interested in me as anything other than a friend. He never wished to make me fall in love with him. And I never wished him to do so. He has imposed upon me but he has not injured me.”  
  
“He is a most fortunate man. Everything turns out for his good. He is a most fortunate man indeed.”  
  
“You speak as if you envied him.”  
  
Unable to continue standing still, Knightley began to pace up and down in his frustration. “I do envy him, Emma. In one respect, I envy him  
very much. You don’t wish to know what that is. You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity. Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may regret it the next minute.”  
  
“Oh, then do not say it! Take a little time, do not commit yourself. I stopped you ungraciously just then. Yes, I will hear you. If you wish to tell me you are contemplating something, yes you may speak to me as a friend.”  
  
“As a friend.” Knightley shook his head. As a friend? Was that truly how Emma saw him? As an old friend, as nothing more than that? Maybe his brother and Isabella were wrong, maybe he was making a huge mistake but he had come too far to stop now. “Emma, no. That I fear. I have come too far for concealment. Tell me then, have I no chance of ever succeeding? My dearest Emma, for dearest you will always be. Tell me at once. Say no if it is to be said. I can’t make speeches, Emma. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more, but you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, I have lectured you and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. Well bear with the truth I tell you now. My manners may not have much to recommend them but oh, you understand me. You always have. You understand me and would return my feelings if you can.”  
  
“I can. I do return them. I do love you, I believe I always have.”  
  
Knightley couldn’t believe his good fortune. But, as happy as Emma’s words made him, there was one small niggling doubt that he had to give voice to, that he couldn’t let lie. “Emma, I’m sorry but I have to ask. Are your feelings simply as a result of my actions against Mr Elton?”  
  
“Not at all. I won’t deny that maybe I was made aware of my feelings due to your actions but as I said, I believe that I’ve always loved you. Truly I do love you, Mr Knightley.”  
  
“Then you do consent. You will be my wife?”  
  
“I do, I do consent. I can think of nothing I want more.”  
  
The words sent a thrill of delight through Knightley and he couldn’t help but smile as he took Emma in his arms. He dipped his head towards hers, noting that she was stretching up to meet him but, before their lips could meet, he paused and brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone, tucking a stray strand of golden hair behind her ear.  
  
“I held you in my arms when you were but three weeks old.”  
  
“Do you like me as well now as you did then?”  
  
He couldn’t help but chuckle at the saucy reply that was so typical of Emma, cupping her cheek with his hand and brushing his thumb over her cheekbone once more as she tilted her head into his palm. “I think I can safely say that, as I much as I liked you as an infant, I like you infinitely more now.”  
  
“Well, that’s very good to know. _My_ Mr Knightley, my greatest protector. I think you should kiss me now.”  
  
Who was Knightley to argue with that? Leaning in, he finally, _finally_ , kissed Emma Woodhouse for the first time.


	6. Epilogue

From the spot that he had claimed in the corner of Lord and Lady Fitzpatrick’s parlour, Knightley stood and watched Emma in all her glory. He was hardly surprised that Emma was the centre of attention. She was like the sun with everybody else revolving around her like planets despite the fact that Emma was virtually unknown within London society. What also pleased him was that Emma was all of this without the artifice of any of the other women in attendance. She wasn’t dripping in ostentatious jewels or swathed in the latest ridiculous fashions from Paris. She was dressed impeccably as she always was and the only additions to her attire were a pair of tiny sapphire drop earrings and her engagement ring, both of which had once belonged to Knightley’s beloved mother. No, Emma was beauty personified in her simplicity.  
  
His and Emma’s wedding was fast approaching – a scant six weeks hence – and so Knightley had escorted his fiancée and Mrs Weston to London so that they could join Emma in shopping for her trousseau. Mr Woodhouse, already struggling with the fact that Emma was engaged – even if it was to Mr Knightley, whom he adored - hadn’t been overjoyed at the prospect of Emma going to London, but had taken some reassurance from the knowledge that she was being accompanied by Mrs Weston and that Mr Knightley was acting as their escort.  
  
For his part, Knightley had barely seen his fiancée since they had arrived in town. They were all staying with John and Isabella but it seemed as though Emma, Isabella and Mrs Weston were hardly there; they were gone from morning to late afternoon on New Bond Street purchasing everything that Emma was expected to have as a new bride, often accompanied by a multitude of boxes from an assortment of establishments. While Emma was otherwise occupied, Knightley spent time with his brother, visited Mr Henderson once more for the infinitely more pleasurable task of changing his will due to his impending nuptials and spending time at his usually ignored club. Besides, they had an agreement; Isabella and Mrs Weston got Emma for the first week while Knightley and their nieces and nephews got her the second week. They had all sorts of plans including carriage rides through several of the royal parks and they had promised a trip to the East End and Benjamin Pollock’s toy shop.  
  
For entertainment more suited to adults, Knightley had plans to take Emma to the Argyll Rooms for a concert organised by the Philharmonic Society of London, a performance at the Royal Opera House and Henderson’s wife – by all accounts, something of a social butterfly and darling – had secured them an invitation to Almack’s. Knightley was dreading the last engagement but, despite Emma’s insistence that she didn’t need to go, he did not want to deprive her of the opportunity to visit the famous assembly rooms. He would simply grit his teeth and feign enjoyment for Emma’s sake.  
  
As his gaze had barely left Emma all evening, Knightley was immediately on his guard when Emma, upon glancing around the room, suddenly went stock still and blanched white. Her companion, seemingly oblivious to Emma’s discomfort, simply carried on talking. Curious and concerned as to what could have caused Emma’s reaction, Knightley followed her gaze only to flinch himself. There, looming large as life on the other side of Lady Fitzpatrick’s parlour was the cad himself; Mr Elton.  
  
Extricating himself from his corner for the first time that evening, Knightley paused but for a second to whisper in John’s ear and alert him to the situation before moving directly to Emma’s side and placing what he hoped was a reassuring hand to the small of her back. It wasn’t necessarily the done thing but Knightley tended not to care about propriety when Emma was in distress. He felt her press back against his hand momentarily and then Elton was in front of them accompanied by an unknown woman.  
  
Knightley couldn’t believe the gall of the man or the calculated method of his approach. Knightley didn’t know if Elton had prior awareness that Emma would be in attendance this evening but he had deliberately chosen a public setting where Emma would be forced to interact with her attacker for fear of causing a scene or further gossip. As far as Knightley was concerned, it was badly done. Very badly done. Nevertheless, he was a little intrigued as to who Elton’s female companion was. More than that, he wanted to know what the hell Elton was doing here; what connection did he have to Lord and Lady Fitzpatrick that had garnered him an invitation to this evening.  
  
“Mr Knightley, Miss Woodhouse. I hadn’t expected the pleasure of your company this evening.”  
  
“Mr Elton. Nor had we expected to see you.”  
  
Knightley didn’t return the courtesy and saw the second the slight was recognised but one swift sideways glance showed Emma was incapable of speech and he had no desire to make small talk with a cad like Elton. Unfortunately for both Emma and Knightley, Mr Elton didn’t seem to be getting the hint. Knightley had never really thought Elton to be an intelligent man but now he was truly proving his stupidity. Instead of taking the hints that Knightley was dropping, trying to get rid of the man, Elton continued to hover before seeming to remember the woman at his side.  
  
“Oh! Please allow me to introduce my wife, Mrs Augusta Elton.”  
  
Both Emma and Knightley were so shocked that they were momentarily unable to speak. It was not quite eight months since Knightley had duelled Elton in response to Elton’s assault on Emma, yet here he was married to another woman. Knightley could scarce believe it. Elton’s new bride must not know the truth of the man she had married or maybe she knew and simply did not care. To Knightley’s amazement, it was Emma who spoke first.  
  
“Congratulations Mr Elton, Mrs Elton. Have you been married long?”  
  
“No, not really; it was something of a whirlwind romance. We met in Bath just after Christmas and married some three months ago.”  
  
“And what are you doing in London? Are you on your wedding trip?”  
  
Knightley didn’t think he had ever been prouder of Emma. Not only was she having to face Elton unexpectedly, she was having to do it in full view of the ‘Ton. Nevertheless, she was dealing with the situation beautifully and with far more composure than Knightley would have expected; he was pretty certain that only he had noticed the fine tremors that shook Emma’s frame or that she was several shades paler than usual.  
  
“Oh no! We visited Brighton on our wedding tour, such a charming piece! Have you ever been Miss Woodhouse? No, I just had a burning desire to visit London and my caro sposo doesn’t deny me a thing. My brother-in-law Mr Suckling has done business with Lord Fitzpatrick, who invited us this evening when he heard we were in town. And you, Miss Woodhouse, are you in town long?”  
  
“Oh! No, not that long. We’re just here a fortnight.”  
  
“I’m surprised to see you at all, Miss Woodhouse. Your father was never keen on being parted from you before. Indeed, I had wondered if you would ever leave Highbury.”  
  
Knightley bristled at the implication of Elton’s words and opened his mouth to speak, only to be beaten to it by Emma. Never having been one that was usually lost for words, she had seemingly found her courage once more.  
  
“Perhaps not but Father gave his permission as Mr Knightley and Mrs Weston would be escorting me and I would be staying with my sister. Besides, both Isabella and Mrs Weston insisted that the only place to buy my trousseau was on Bond Street.”  
  
“T-t-trousseau? You’re to be married?”  
  
It was Elton’s turn to blanch and, letting a rather self-satisfied smirk cross his lips, Knightley decided to allow himself the liberty of wrapping his arm around Emma’s waist.  
  
“Yes. Six weeks hence, Emma and I are to be wed and I shall be the luckiest man alive. Now, if you will excuse us, Mr Elton, Mrs Elton.”  
  
Using his grip on Emma’s waist, he steered her away from the Eltons and to the opposite side of the room before shepherding Emma out onto the balcony the second that the obnoxious couple were out of sight, catching Mrs Weston’s eye as he did so; he had no desire to be accused of impropriety. As soon as they were outside, Emma was in his arms, her own flung around his neck and burrowing as close to him as physically possible. Catching sight of Mrs Weston hovering in her role of chaperone out of the corner of his eye, Knightley allowed his arms to wrap around Emma, satisfied that any cries of impropriety could easily be assuaged. He didn’t know how long they stood there, Emma nestled against him, his arms wrapped around her and cheek pressed against her hair but he would have waited forever if that was what Emma needed. Finally, she pulled back and looked up at him with slightly watery eyes and a small smile.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Knightley couldn’t help but laugh somewhat incredulously. “Sorry? My dearest Emma, what on earth could you be sorry for.” He brushed away the tears that were threatening to brim over with his thumbs and bestowed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “My Emma, I could not be prouder of you and the way that you behaved just now. Had I known that they would be here, I should never have brought you here yet you acted with dignity, grace and strength.”  
  
“If I was strong, it was because I had you beside me.”  
  
“No. while I would love to take credit, your strength is your own Emma and you have far surpassed anything that I could have dreamed of for you. Today I was proud to be able to call you my fiancée. I will be prouder still to call you my wife.”  
  
As he pressed a kiss to Emma’s temple, Knightley could see that tears had spilled over onto Emma’s cheeks but, knowing that they were happy tears, contented himself to do nothing but hold her closer. He knew that they would have to return soon – chaperone or no chaperone – but he didn’t want to push Emma too quickly.  
  
“Hmmm?” He looked down as he thought he heard her speak. “Emma?”  
  
“I have wondered how I would feel when – if – I saw Mr Elton again. I had half-feared that he would have some kind of hold over me; that I would never be free of him and what he did to me, yet tonight … I was shocked to see him and I felt a moment of hatred for him but mostly I felt relief that he has no hold over me and pity for his new wife. Besides, I knew that I had you by my side.”  
  
“I will forever be by your side, my darling Emma. But this evening proved that, whilst I may fashion and even fancy myself as your greatest protector, in truth, you are your own. You have no need for me.”  
  
Knightley’s breath caught in his chest at Emma’s beatific smile only for his heart to stop seconds later as she leaned up to press a kiss to his lips.  
  
“Such silliness. There shall never be a day when I don’t need you, my knight.”  
  
“Then I shall never stray from your side.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/245959.html)


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